


This is Some Satanic Bullshit

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [81]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Stiles, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Monster of the Week, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Rituals, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's Anchor, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Being Idiots, Tumblr Prompt, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: The third time Stiles was kidnapped that week, he wasn’t impressed. But then Derek was thrown into the cell too and things got much worse.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [81]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 10
Kudos: 685





	This is Some Satanic Bullshit

The third time that week Stiles was kidnapped, he wasn’t impressed. 

Of course, he was used to it by now, but dammit, it was summer vacation and he had better things to do than wait around in a dingy cell until one of the werewolves came for him. Like sleeping. Or eating all the curly fries he possibly could.

The first time had been a witch, the second time her angry sister, and this time was hunters. Stiles was pretty sure, at least, because he’d been taken with a bag over his head and a blow to the temple, which was pretty usual for idiot humans. 

But he’d been wrong before.

It only took about an hour for him to hear the sound of angry roars and what sounded like a heavy thump. Shoving himself up in relief, Stiles moved over to the barred cell door and rolled his eyes when he saw Derek. Of course, it was Derek.

“Okay, dude, let me first say I’m getting rather tired of being the kidnapped toke human—”

Except something was wrong. Stiles stepped back as he noticed the men dragging the werewolf forward and his breaths caught when he noticed Derek’s glazed eyes. One of the men muttered something under his breath and the cell lock clicked, the door swinging open, and they tossed Derek in without preamble. 

The werewolf hit the floor hard, grunting in pain. 

The moment the door closed again, Stiles rushed forward, dropping his knees at Derek’s side. He didn’t see any outward injuries, but he wasn’t sure, prodding Derek carefully in the back.

“Dude, Derek? Are you dying? Are you nearly dead?”

“Stop touching me,” Derek grunted, his face screwed up in a constipated expression. Stiles drew back, wrinkling his nose.

“Still grunty and growly, got it. You’re fine.”

“They did something,” Derek ground out. “I can’t—” A finger twitched and he growled. Stiles arched a brow.

“Kanima venom? Where the hell do hunters get their hands on kanima venom?”

“Not hunters,” Derek said. “Or kanima venom.”

“Uh, what?”

Derek moved another finger and grunted as he shifted a little. Stiles was sorely tempted to help, but he was pretty sure that would result in him losing a hand, so he stayed in his position across the cell. Derek moved a little more. “Warlocks.”

“Warlocks? Like… the opposite of ‘witch’ warlocks?”

“They’re with the witches from earlier,” Derek said, managing to righten himself up. He still looked constipated; Stiles wondered if his face was frozen that way. He swallowed a snort. “Same coven.”

“Oh, great. So I’m guessing this is payback for ripping out the throats of their, um, friends?”

Derek only glared at him. Stiles rolled his eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position and wrapping his arms around his knees. 

“Great. And how exactly did they get you?”

“I came to help.”

“Ah,” Stiles said, snorting. “My hero. Tell me, do the others know where we are, or did you decide to go on this rescue mission alone?”

Derek didn’t answer that. Stiles sighed.

“Fantastic.”

“Did they hurt you?” Derek asked, and Stiles blinked in confusion. The werewolf’s ears turned red and he dropped his gaze, flexing his fingers. “Before I came?”

“I mean, I got hit over the head pretty good,” Stiles said shrugging. “But no, Sourwolf, I’m alright. Might not be for much longer, though.”

“Sorry.”

“Sor- dude are you feeling okay? Are you sure they didn’t do something to your head too?”

Derek scowled at the floor. Stiles wet his lips, lowering his gaze too.

“Nevermind. Do you, uh, have feeling back?”

“Getting there,” Derek said. Stiles nodded and shifted a little more, shivering in the cool damp air. 

It was getting dark when he’d been taken and his thin sweatshirt wasn’t very good protection against the cold air of the cell. Derek glanced up and then sighed, before shifting over a little.

“Come over here.”

“What?”

“Come over here,” Derek repeated, looking like the words were causing him physical pain. “It’s only going to get colder.”

Stiles stared for a moment longer before pushing himself up and moving across the cell. He hesitated before sliding down at Derek’s side, and couldn’t help a little groan at the heat radiating off the werewolf. Derek shot him a strange look and Stiles blushed, shrugging. 

“You like a portable heater, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t move for a second before shifting a little closer. To his surprise, Derek didn’t growl at him or move away, and Stiles sighed, leaning against his shoulder. “So, this is just great.”

“The others will come,” Derek said. “Eventually.”

“Let’s hope,” Stiles said, gazing at the wall opposite them. He had faith in the pack, sure, but Derek’s betas were… pups. And if Scott was anywhere with Allison, it might be a while. “Any idea what these warlocks might want?”

“Revenge, probably,” Derek said. “But I killed the witches. I don’t know what they want with you.”

“I’m just good kidnapping material,” Stiles said, only half-joking. “Seriously, dud— Derek.”

Derek glanced over with an unreadable expression on his face. He studied Stiles for a moment before looking guilty and dropping his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Come again?”

“You should be enjoying your summer vacation safe at home,” Derek said bitterly. “Not here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not ideal, but it could be worse, right?”

“Could it?”

“I could be dead,” Stiles said, snorting. Derek’s head jerked back up and he gave Stiles a wide-eyed look, and Stiles quickly backtracked. “I mean… I could be alone? Or you know, tortured. Or something. The point is, things could be worse.”

“They could also be better.”

“Stop being a pessimist,” Stiles said, reaching out and poking his face. “That’s not good for team morale. Let me do the talking, I’m an optimist.”

“Your idea of optimism is not being dead,” Derek said flatly. Stiles laughed.

“Fair point. But still, optimism!”

Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles could’ve sworn he saw a small smile tugging at the werewolf’s lips. Grinning to himself, he nestled in closer and closed his eyes, taking the chance to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. When the werewolf didn’t pull back, he stayed there.

“When we get out of here,” Stiles mumbled. “You’re buying me curly fries.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m kidnapped for the third time this week. And I said so.”

“Right.”

Stiles felt like that was a win. Or something.

They didn’t talk again, just sitting like that. Stiles thought he actually might have fallen asleep, except suddenly Derek was growling and the cell door opened again, revealing the same three men from earlier. 

Derek was on his feet in a second, the sudden loss of support making Stiles topple sideways. The werewolf leaped between him and the warlocks, but one muttered something and pressed his palm against Derek’s forehead, and the werewolf collapsed sideways, unconscious. Stiles yelped, stumbling to his feet, and the other warlock held up a warning hand. Stiles froze.

“What do you want with us?”

“Nothing with you,” the closest man said. “Except as bait for the Alpha.”

“And what do you want with him?”

The man only grinned. Stiles shivered and two of the men grabbed Derek by the arms while the other one surveyed Stiles carefully. Sparks danced along the warlock’s fingers, but he didn’t make an effort to knock Stiles out too.

“Are you going to come quietly?” He asked, as the other two dragged Derek away. “Or do I need to use force?”

Stiles watched Derek and itched to fight back, or try to run, or do _something_. But he also knew better. Clenching his jaw, he shook his head. “I’ll come quietly.”

“Good.”

Stiles didn’t think any of this was good. But he followed the man out of the cell and clenched his hands into fists, keeping himself controlled. They followed the hallway into a more open room and Stiles froze as he spotted more robed men, a strange symbol etched in mountain ash onto the floor, and a bunch of candles lighting up the room.

This was some serious satanic bullshit.

“Um,” he said, throat dry. “What did you say you wanted Derek for again?”

“A ritual,” the warlock said. “To bring back the ones we’ve lost.”

Stiles looked at him sharply and, lugged into the symbol of mountain ash, Derek began to stir. Stiles started forward, but two other men moved forward and caught him by the arms. Cursing, Stiles struggled to break free.

“Get off me! Derek, dammit, Derek wake up!”

The men dropped the werewolf in the circle and backed up as Derek lifted his head and then leaped to his feet, moving toward them with blood-red eyes and a growl. But the second he touched the barrier, he went flying back. Stiles swore and struggled harder.

“Let me go! Derek!” 

“Stiles,” Derek said, taking a step back. He surveyed the circle and then his shoulders slumped. The red faded from his eyes and he looked at him, fear written across his face. “They don’t want you, Stiles.”

“I don’t care— get— get off me! Derek, I swear to god, you need to break through—”

The other robed figures surrounded the circle and the candles flared. One man, wearing a mask of iron, began to chant. Derek visibly shuddered and Stiles’s heart leaped into his throat.

“Come on, Derek! You can break out!”

Derek didn’t say anything. The man continued to chant and the werewolf fell to one knee, face contorting in pain. Stiles continued to fight.

“You can’t do this!”

Derek dropped his head into his chest and shuddered again. Stiles stopped fighting, going limp in the hands that held him, and a rush of anger crashed over him. He focused on the line of mountain ash, saw red, and then yanked as hard as he could.

Things moved slowly. Derek collapsed sideways, the candles all went out at once, and the line of mountain ash exploded, particles of black dust flying through the air. Stiles ripped loose and raced forward, and thought he heard a distant howl. But he couldn’t be sure, dropping down at Derek’s side.

The man was breathing raspily. Stiles cursed, pulling his head into his lap, and did hear a howl, then. Looking up, Stiles caught another flash of red eyes and Scott came bursting into the room, the betas on his heels. The room exploded in conflict.

Stiles looked back down, fingers fluttering over Derek’s limp form. The man groaned, moving a little, and blinked up at him. “What—”

“Derek, you damn idiot,” Stiles said, anger and terror making his throat constrict. “You’re not allowed to do that! You’re not allowed to do that to me!”

Derek had the nerve to huff as if _Stiles_ was overreacting. Stiles glared down at him.

“You’re not allowed to die on me, bastard. You understand that?”

“Is that your way of saying you care?”

“That’s my way of saying you’re an asshole, asshole!”

“I told you,” Derek said, grunting as he shifted. “I came to help.”

“That doesn’t count as help!”

“Stop being a pessimist,” Derek said. “It’s not good for team morale.”

“You— I— ugh, asshole!”

The sounds of fighting died down around them and Stiles looked up as Scott approached. The other Alpha was still half-shifted and his eyes darted from Stiles, to Derek, and then back. Slowly, his claws retracted. “Is he okay?”

Derek pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly. He looked himself over and looked back at Scott, nodding. “Fine.”

Stiles glowered. The betas moved forward carefully, whining, and Derek tried to stand, only to rock back. Setting his jaw, Stiles linked an arm underneath the man’s armpit and helped pull him to his feet. Derek shot him a grateful look.

“Right,” Scott said. “Should we get out of here, then?”

“You go,” Stiles said. “We’ll follow.”

Scott glanced between them again before turning away. One by one, the other betas followed and Stiles wiggled out of Derek’s grip, the man swaying a little as he caught his balance. Stiles crossed his arms, glaring, and Derek had raised a brow.

“What.”

“What? _What?_ Derek, dammit, don’t ‘what’ me!”

“Sorry.”

“Sor- ugh,” Stiles said. He glanced around the room, trying not to notice the bodies, and shuddered as he saw the corridor leading toward where they’d been kept. Derek followed his gaze and winced.

“I am sorry,” Derek said softly. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Almost die?”

“Yeah,” Derek murmured. “That.”

“It’s not happening again.”

Derek huffed. Stiles shot him a glowering look. 

“I’m serious, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want when I save you life. Which you realize I just did, right? I had to save your life. Don’t make me ever do it again.”

Derek only rolled his eyes. But Stiles thought he saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms. 

“You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“And… what happened…?”

Derek looked nervous, glancing after where the others had disappeared. Instead of answering the question, he gestured helplessly. “Should we follow them?”

Quietly, Stiles nodded. But Derek hesitated before moving.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

“Is that your way of saying you care?”

The man chuckled, eyes on the floor. Stiles thought maybe, just maybe, it might be progress. If nearly dying and cuddling for warmth wasn’t. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said. “You’re still an asshole.”

“Okay.”

“And a bastard.”

“Sure.”

“And I’m spending the rest of my summer not getting kidnapped and held in dingy cells. I want to sleep. Or watch TV. Or literally anything else. Got it?”

Derek was definitely smiling now, nodding as Stiles huffed. Rolling his eyes, Stiles grabbed his arm and started after the others. He glanced over, a smirk forming on his lips.

“And you’re buying me curly fries.”

“Right.”

“You are.”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t an actual answer, but Stiles felt like that was a win. Or something. Because this was the third time he’d been kidnapped and he deserved curly fries. And he’d said so.

He got curly fries.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt; 'this is my way of saying you're an asshole!' and it kinda got away from me. But I hope you all enjoyed! Of courses, comments and the support you guys leave makes my day <3 Stay safe!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr! 
> 
> [tumblr dumpser](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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